Our World
by Secret Spy Guy
Summary: Something is brewing in the Sinnoh islands, and Honda Kiku is determined to find out. But when he and Alfred accidently unleash an ancient evil, it's going to take trainers and their pokemon from all over the world to help set things right again.
1. The Hero's Homecoming

**Spy Guy: This is for Kacey, who is stuck in traffic in Kentucky right now, and could really use some Hetalia/Pokemon love. **

**Most of my watchers...you probably might just want to ignore this. XD But, if you're a hetalia and a pokemon fan...go for it!

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Chapter 1: The Hero's Homecoming

It had been years since he had seen England.

Of course, they hadn't parted on the best of terms. Arthur had always been a control freak when it came to his children…but Alfred was just the first one to do something about it…which translated to running away in the middle of the night with only his pidgey and a knapsack filled with stale pasties and burnt scones. Still, he had always been good at survival, so he didn't need anyone to help him find shelter and food. He didn't need anyone for anything.

The mansion was the same as always, ridiculously ornate, and very out of place amongst the other cottages in the area. America strolled fearlessly up to the front gate, and pushed the button for the intercom, leaning forward to announce his presence.

"Hey Iggy! Guess who it is?"

Inside, Arthur had just been sitting down to his afternoon tea, his snobbish snubble resting at his feet, when the sound of the intercom crackled through the mansion's speakers. The sound alone had been jarring enough, but it was the voice accompanying it that really made him drop his tea and cringe.

"I thought I told that ungrateful git never to come back!" The man growled, storming to his feet, ignoring the fact that snubble was fuming below, trying to shake scalding hot tea from its fur.

_"Hey, Iggy! I know you're in there!" _

The man leaned up against the door, pressing the intercom button on his side, so he could give that ungrateful whelp a piece of his mind. How _dare_ he even think of coming back? It was because of him that he had to give the gym to _Matthew._

"Get off of my property before I set the hounds on you!" Arthur shouted through the speaker,

_"C'mon, buddy. It's been years. Can't you get over it by now?" _

"No." The older man replied. "You have interrupted my teatime, Alfred F. Jones. Go away."

Outside, Alfred frowned at the gate, knitting his eyebrows together. Once upon a time, that gate had been the only thing separating him from freedom. But now, he had an arsenal of pokemon at his disposable, one being the proud and majestic Pidgeot he had raised from a chick. With a few flaps of its massive wings, it easily fly over the gate and land at Arthur's door. The young man had come this far, and he was determined to see his caretaker again…to tell him all that he had accomplished…and RUB IT IN HIS FACE.

Reaching for the pokeballs lining his belt, the man selected one, and threw it into the air. His faithful Pidgeot burst forth in a flash of light, landing atop the gate.

"Hey, Washington, do you think that you can fly me to the other side?" Alfred asked, pointing toward the mansion. Washington ruffled his feathers before gliding to the ground, nuzzling its master playfully with its beak. With a whoop, Alfred skillfully climbed onto its back, his fingers gripping the soft, familiar feathers beneath him. The man braced himself as the great bird flapped its wings, and took to the sky in a flurry of dust and leaves. They were soon over the gate, soaring close and closer to the main door. America cheered, loving the exhilarating rush of wind against his face.

There was no way Arthur could keep _him_ out. _Nothing_ could keep him out. He was a man with an unfailing can-do attitude, and he **always** got what he wanted.

Imagine Arthur's surprise when he heard a knock at his front door…his front door that was usually guarded by an insurmountable fence. Also, imagine the look of shock on his face when he opened said door to find his runaway protege, standing beside a large bird who was almost as tall as he.

"Hey, Arthur!" Alfred grinned. "Washington and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought that we'd check out the old place. Is that alright with you?"

"Wut—wut?" Arthur stammered as pokemon and master pushed past him. He couldn't believe that either of them were the ones he had known before. Alfred had just been a boy, not even ten years old, and Washington had been small enough to pick up and throw across the room. Now…

"Hey, where's Matty?" Alfred asked, plopping himself down on the couch and helping himself to a biscuit.

"Who?" England asked, trying to gather himself together.

"You know, Matthew."

"Oh…oh yes. He's probably at the gym."

"Canada got the gym?" The young man asked, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. Some things never changed.

"It's not like _you_ were here to take over." Arthur grumbled, attempting to regain his composure. He could not let Alfred get to him. _He_ was the adult, and he had to make sure that everyone knew it…even if the two of them were the only ones present.

"I was off doing bigger things, fuzzy-brows"

"Like what?"

"Like being the champion of the Johto league." Alfred replied, his smile growing.

And Arthur turned as white as a sheet.

***

Alfred really hated tea. Once, to show how much he hated it, he had taken one of Iggy's crates of it, and dumped it into the pond on the grounds. Needless to say, he had been grounded for a long time…but it had been worth it.

Alfred didn't like Iggy's biscuits either. They were hard, crunchy wafters that tasted dry and nasty. Washington seemed to like them though, so the man kept popping them into the bird pokemon's beak, watching Arthur's face twist in rage as crumbs scattered the floor.

"So, why are you here, exactly?" The older man asked, taking a small sip of his tea.

"I'm on vacation." Alfred announced. "This hero's going on an adventure through the West Sinnoh islands. They say that legendary pokemon live there."

"Are you going alone?" Arthur demanded.

Alfred shook his head.

"No. Honda's coming with we. We've been planning this trip for about a year."

"So, then why did you come here to bother me?"

"I thought that you'd want to know that you helped raise a champion. Isn't that something that you can brag to your friends about?"

England huffed.

"I don't brag.

"You do too." Alfred laughed, getting to his feet. "Everyone brags. I'm bragging right now, because I'm a pokemon master, and you said I'd never amount to anything."

"Now wait a minute!!—"

"A pokemon master! How brill!"

Just when Arthur thought it couldn't get any worse…there came the shrill voice and thundering footsteps of his latest horrible failure. Said failure came racing into the room, round chubby Spheal cradled in his arms, blue eyes wide in childish excitement.

"Who's this?" Alfred asked, turning to his elder with a bemused smile.

"I'm Peter!" The blonde-haired boy cried, giving a sloppy salute. "Or Sealand, or whatever you want to call me! Are you really a pokemon master?!"

"Peter." England growled. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"Shove off!" Peter snapped.

Arthur felt his face flushing with embarrassment. Peter _never_ listened to him. It seemed like some kind of trend with his proteges.

"Where'd you find _this_ guy?" Alfred asked. If it were even possible, the young man's smile seemed to be growing.

"In the middle of the ocean." England replied, finally accepting defeat, and slumping back in his chair. He didn't even react as his snubble started chewing on his nice leather shoes, and Sealand's spheal bounced onto the tea tray.

The day had already gone to hell. What did it matter anymore? 


	2. Surplus

**Spy Guy: Here's chapter two. :D This fic is so much fun, you don't even know. I'm attempting to keep angst out of this as much as possible...but, a little bit is going to sneak in every so often. :D It's just to move the story along, and give it some semblance of a plot. **

**Thanks for the reviews. :D I hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 2: Surplus**

He only had a few more things left to pack.

When it came to trips, Kiku was always meticulous. He had to have everything folded just so; undergarments at the bottom, dress shirts at the top. His toiletries were in a separate case, organized so he knew, for sure, that everything was there. Alfred always teased him about how picky he was, but such jibes didn't mean much from a man who forgot to bring flashlights and escape ropes when exploring a cave. That was why, whenever the two of them went on an adventure…It was Kiku who always got the supplies.

Kit, his loyal ninetails, was sleeping at the foot of his bed, curled up in a tight ball, her muzzle resting gracefully on dainty paws. Kiku had already packed _her_ bag the night before. Brushes, shampoo, bottles of water, more brushes and some bows, in case she felt like being pretty. All it needed was the gourmet pokemon food that Feliciano made. He was supposed to be coming around to deliver some soon.

Almost on cue, there came a knock on the door. After folding one last dress shirt, Kiku smiled softly, making his way to the front door, to let his friend inside.

"Japan!" The younger man cried, his face lit up with boundless excitement. Kiku simply continued to smile his same, soft smile, keeping the door only halfway open, so Feliciano couldn't run in and give him a hug, or worse: a kiss on the cheek. However, the older man relaxed when he saw the huge bag of pokemon food cradled in the Italian's arms. With a few murmured greetings, Kiku pulled the door open, helping the younger man maneuver the bag inside. It was incredibly heavy, and Kiku found his back straining against the weight. He was getting too old to be doing such heavy lifting, and he would later have to move it to his kitchen himself.

"You brought so much." Kiku said, catching his breath. "I only needed a little."

"Oh, there's more!" Feliciano replied, ginning broadly. "Ludwig's bringing in the rest."

"More?" Kiku asked, his face paling. The first bag was enough. Surely there couldn't be _more_. Where would he put it? His house was so small…

Outside, Ludwig had finally managed to heft three of the bags onto his shoulders, and was attempting to make his way to Kiku's front door. Why had Italy insisted on experimenting with a dozen new food flavors all at the same time? That meant that there was an insane surplus of pokemon food at Italy's house, and Ludwig's house, and now, at Kiku's house. Soon, it would probably spread even further. There was just SO MUCH of it.

"I should have never left him alone." Ludwig grumbled beneath his breath.

Of course, Feliciano _was_ one of the area's top pokemon chefs, creating fancy foods for picky eaters. He just…tended to let his creativity get away from him. He wasn't so bad when his brother was around…but when he was alone…_this_ happened.

"Really, Italy, I don't need so much."

Kiku was feeling terribly overwhelmed, wringing his hands nervously as the bags were piled before him Maybe he could give some to Heracles. Surely a pokemon breeder would have more use for it than himself. But, how could he get it there? He could ask Ludwig…but what if Feliciano found out? He didn't want to insult the young man by giving away his gifts.

"Veee…That's all of it." Itay sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Now you're ready for your trip.

"Oh…thank you." The older man replied, bowing respectfully. "Yes…I do suppose I can go now."

"You're going to Sinnoh right?" Ludwig asked.

"Yes. Albert and I are taking a ship to the western islands. You know him…he's alway looking for adventure."

"The western islands?" Feliciano asked, fear creeping into his voice. "Isn't that where all those people have been found in comas? Why would you go there?"

"It_ is_ a dangerous area, Kiku." Germany continued, clearing his throat. "There's a lot of ancient lore about those islands over there. And, we all know that Alfred's not one to think things through. He could get into some trouble."

"That's why _I'm_ going with him." Japan replied, his smile returning. "That young man needs someone to look after him. There's no telling what trouble he could get into alone."

***

"Oh yes. I'm definitely a hero!" Alfred cried, kneeling down to Peter's level. "And I have eight badges to prove it. Do you want to see?"

"Show me!"

"Yes, Alfred. Do show off those tin buttons of yours." Arthur grumbled, narrowing his eyes. "The boy will be impressed by _anything_."

England was in a fowl mood, one that was growing worse with each passing minute. The floor was littered in biscuit crumbs, spilt tea, and chunks of leather. His snubble, now content with having eaten its master's shoes, was sleeping peacefully at his feet, snoring loudly. Sealand's spheal was bouncing on the couch cushions, burbling to itself, while Alfred showed off to Peter, revealing the badges he kept pinned inside his jacket.

"One for every gym." The man announced happily. "Did you know that in Johto, there's a gym leader who uses ghost pokemon?"

"There's one here now too!" Peter replied. "That's the kind of pokemon Matthew uses!"

"Wait, who? _My _brother Matty? Using ghost types?" The American chuckled. "I remember when he wouldn't sleep without a nightlight, and now he's using ghost pokemon? I can't believe it."

"It's true! It really is!"

Peter had never met anyone like Alfred. Not only was he a pokemon master, he was _the_ CHAMPION of the JHOTO League. To him, Jhoto was like…BIG. He had always thought Arthur and Matthew were important, because they were gym leaders, but, now, he had met a man who who had beaten _eight_ gym leaders, _and _the elite four, _and_ the reining champion.

Alfred was larger than life.

"Well, I'm just going to have to go over there and see for myself!" The man said, gracefully standing to full height.

"Yes. Yes you will." Arthur replied, immediately sensing an opportunity to rid himself of the menace terrorizing his house. "I'm sure he'd _love_ to see you. To visit me and not him would be terribly rude."

"It's decided then! I'm going to have to visit the gym!"

"Can I go too? Please?" Peter begged, jumping up and down.

Suddenly, things were looking much brighter. Arthur could kill two birds with one stone and get rid of both Alfred _and_ Peter…though, eventually the latter would have to return. But, to have a few hours to himself to tidy up his suffering home—that was all he really needed. Some peace and quiet.

"Of course, Sealand. Just make sure to take your jacket. And don't get your shoes dirty. And wear your hat."

"Oh, sod off." Peter spat, leaving the elder man speechless and his face flushed from embarrassment.

***

Toris really didn't mind watching Alfred's house for him.

While he _was_ kind of a slob, Alfred was good company, and had an unwavering love of pokemon. Being around someone like that was refreshing after all his years hanging with Ivan's crew. It was good to get back on the straight and narrow, and just enjoy the company of his marill. He also liked being with Alfred's wailmer, and they would all spend hours playing in the surf together.

There was a pile of dishes stacked on the counter, just as there always were. Toris was dutifully cleaning them in the sink, his hands immersed in scalding hot water. Marill was helping him dry, and was also carefully stacking them in the drainer. There were a few occasions where the mouse pokemon accidentally dropped one on the floor, but Toris just ignored it, and continued. He knew where Alfred bought his plates, and he was sure he could afford a few of them, even as poor as he was…

Alfred was such a cheapskate.

Whenever cleaned Alfred's house, there was always a series of pans and plates coated in thick grease. This time was no different. Lithuania had to scour them with a sponge repeatedly in order to remove all the grime. Soap coated his arms up to his elbows, but still he plodded onward, attempting to do his best to clean his host's dishes.

It was then that the doorbell rang, and he was forced to grab a towel and dry his pruny hands.

"I'll be right there!" Toris called as the visitor began ringing the bell repeatedly. Who could it be? He didn't really know any of Alfred's neighbors. What would he say to them? Would he be able to help them out?

When he opened the door, he realized that none of that even mattered. All he could do was stare at the figure before him, his face paling at the sight.

The visitor was a fair-haired man, dressed in thick winter clothes, his strange purple eyes glinting in the bright sunlight. In one hand he held a rusted faucet pipe, the other, a pokeball. He was smiling broadly.

"I-Ivan?" Toris gasped, taking a cautious step back. Ivan was the last person he wanted to see. He had tried to get as far away from that man as possible…but now…

"You missed me, _da_? I know that Russia missed you."

…It had all been for nothing…

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**Spy Guy: See? There' a little bit of the angst I'm so well known for. I promise, there's going to be a pokemon battle in the next chapter. Promise. XD Right now, I'm just practicing how well I can get people in and out of doors. It's really hard to write people going through doors. For me at least. XD so hard. I can never find the right words. **

**Thanks for reading. Please leave a review. :D **


	3. Ghosts

**Spy Guy: Here's chapter three! :D Enjoy. Matthew's battle has been pushed back to the beginning of the next chapter, but I assure you, it's there. XD lol. **

**Enjoy, and please leave me a review.

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**Chapter 3: Ghosts**

"I heard a rumor that Alfred was out of town." Ivan said, sweeping into the room. "And that a certain young man named Toris was watching his house."

Liet swallowed thickly, trying to keep his distance from the volatile man suddenly invading his safe haven.

"What are you here for?" The young man asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady. Ivan simply smirked, making himself at home by slumping onto the couch and drawing a small half empty flask of vodka from his coat.

"While the cat's away, the mice will play." Ivan replied with a soft chuckle, taking a long swig from the bottle. Toris gulped, attempting to edge towards the door. He knew that he should flee, like his instincts were screaming at him to do. But, how could he leave Alfred's house unguarded? The man would never forgive him…

"Don't even think about running again." Ivan warned, throwing the now empty flask aside. "I don't like it when people run out on me." Then, the man smiled, reaching for a pokeball at his belt. "You remember my sneasel, don't you?" He asked, chucking softly. "It seems to have evolved into a weavile since then. Would you like to see?"

The next thing Toris knew, the man's pokeball was flying into the air, bursting open with a great, blinding flash of light. A dark blue creature leapt from inside, landing softly on Alfred's carpet, six long clawed fingers flexing in anticipation. Lithuania gulped. Now, it had three claws on each paw instead of two…two that could barely move independently from each other. It was now capable of holding onto his clothes with more fervor than ever before.

It didn't take long to the weasel pokemon to catch the scent. It took even less time for it to turn its yellow eyes to his prey, and its face to break into a toothy smile. The next thing Toris knew, the weavile had climbed up his pants and shirt—with its sharp claws—and was perched on his shoulder, licking his cheek with a cold, rough tongue.

"General Winter just loves you so much, Toris." Ivan said with a merry chuckle. Toris could feel the pokemon's sharp talons cutting into his skin, but was too afraid to move, knowing that the General could be just as volatile as its master. Right now, it seemed to be happy, but that could change at the drop of a hat.

The whole situation was just getting worse and worse.

"Eduard and Raivis aren't nearly as much fun for General Winter to play with." Ivan continued. "Eduard is constantly at his computer, and Raivis has the bad habit of passing out. They're both terribly boring people."

"T-there has…has to be a r-reas-son why you're here." Toris replied, trying not to flinch away from the pokemon now nuzzling his cheek. Ivan frowned deeply, getting to his feet. He wobbled slightly before finding his balance, and sauntering forward.

"If you didn't want to be with me so badly, all you had to do was say so. You didn't have to run away like you did. I've been so _worried_."

General Winter made a small cooing sound in agreement.

"I think that you owe me for what you did!"

Russia's smile was back, and he was suddenly laughing again.

"I'm interested in Albert's research. I imagine he's told you all about where he's going, and why. I want you to tell me."

"I…I'm not your spy, Ivan." Toris whispered.

"Just this once, Liet." The man said, wrapping his arm around his former lackey's shoulders. "Then, I'll let you do what you want. Deal?"

As General Winter started chewing on his hair, Toris didn't see how he had much of a choice.

***

Matthew felt sorry for ghost pokemon. They were overlooked by most trainers; invisible and forgotten, just like himself. But ghost types were really very strong. Some could use electric attacks, or steal dreams. At first, he had been terrified of them, but after one unfortunate night locked in the Lavender Tower, he came to see things in a different light.

But, that was mostly because they hadn't stopped following him since.

It had started off as just a Gastly…then that Gastly had evolved into a Haunter. Then, came the shuppet who showed up one day. The shuppet was followed by misdreavus, followed by duskull, followed by another gastly. Eventually, Matthew realized that Ghost types were mysteriously attracted to him. Not that Canada minded at all…after the initial shock and mind numbing fear wore off. Ghost types were a lot stronger than the Teddiursa he had tried to train when he was younger, and who he had resigned to simply carrying around all day in his arms.

Yes…ghost types weren't so bad after all.

That was why he was lying on the floor, unable to move, his body twitching sporadically as feeling slowly returned to his limbs. Whenever he came home, his pokemon liked to greet him, and ghost types tended to greet people like growlithe…by licking them ALL OVER. However, unlike growlithe, the saliva of ghost types caused temporary paralysis, which meant that was was well acquainted with the floor of his home. It was nice plush carpet, bright red, his favorite color, so he normally didn't mind laying on it.

But, normally, his older brother wasn't standing over him, smiling smugly as if he were _laughing _at the irony of the whole situation. Matthew was well aware of how scared he had been of ghosts and the dark when he was little. But, he had grown up, and if Alfred couldn't see that, then he needed to GET OUT.

That's it. Alfred needed to get out. It was because of _him_ that he had to become a pokemon trainer at all. It was because _he _ran away from home and left the gym empty that Matthew had to take his place. America needed to leave RIGHT NOW, and Canada was going to be the one to tell him. 

"Hey Matty. I thought I'd come over for a visit. Mind if I stay?"

"A-alfred—"

He was going to tell him. He was going to do it. Really he—

"I like what you've done with the place. Hey, you got any cola? I could really use some cola right now."

"Alfred…I need—"

"Don't worry, I know where it is. I'll get you one too. Don't get up on my account. "

With that, the man walked by him, traipsing over the red carpet in his boots.

"Do you need any help, uncle Matty?" Peter asked, leaning in close to the fallen man's face.

"No. No. I'm fine. I'll wait until all feeling returns to my body. Besides, it's kind of comfy here."

_"Gastly." _ The pokemon said, snuggling into Matthew's cheek. The gym leader cringed, hating the cold feeling of its gaseous body, but there was nothing he could do to avoid it, being partially paralyzed as he was.

***

Later, the three of them sat in Matthew's living room, drinking cola, and…wallowing in awkward silence. Peter couldn't believe the sheer number of ghost pokemon floating around. He had never been to the places where they lurked—Arthur would never let him—but there was something fascinating about how they floated around Matthew's head, one resting at his feet, another at his shoulder. The older man was feeding them pieces of his famous maple cookies, and the ghost pokemon were gobbling them right up.

Alfred was greedily slurping down a cola as if he hadn't had a drink in months, his boots propped up on the coffee table, to Canada's obvious chagrin. The case holding all of his Johto badges was resting on his lap, open, showing off his accomplishments for all to see.

"You won't believe what Johto's like." America began, crunching the can against his forehead with practiced ease. "It's not nearly as boring as this place is."

"Well…some of us have responsibilities." Matthew ground out. "Running a gym is rewarding too."

"Right now, it's the off season, so I don't have to be fulfilling my championship duties." Alfred continued, ignoring his brother's growing anger. "It's been a while since I've been around here and I thought that I'd catch up on everything."

"Why did you go to Johto?"

For the first time, Alfred seemed to take notice of what his brother was saying.

"I dunno. It was more of a thrill?" The man replied grinning broadly. "I've met all of the gym leaders here, so..I kind of knew what to expect."

"So you think we're easier to beat?"

"No, no—"

"If you think we're so easy to defeat, why don't you fight me?"

Where had this _backbone_ come from all of a sudden? He couldn't ask his brother to _leave, _but he could ask him to battle?

He was obviously spending too much time in the gym. He needed to get out more. 


	4. Sibling Rivalry

**Spy Guy: Sorry this took so long. Finals and what not. **

**This is the longest chapter yet, but...I kind of burned out towards the end. I also learned that Pokemon battles are very very hard to write, and hopefully, I will get better at it. **

**I also, think that I kind of want a beta to check my facts and make sure I'm getting it close enough. XD Anyone up for it? Just send a request my way.**

**And review, because that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. **

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**Chapter 4: Sibling Rivalry **

"I warn you, Matty, I'm a champ."

Alfred had battled a ghost gym leader before. It was a surprisingly simple feat when one knew what they were doing. Ghost types tended to be touted as incredibly powerful…but that wasn't entirely true. He knew that he could easily wipe the floor with his secret weapon…but that would be for later.

The gym itself, unlike Matthew's living quarters, hadn't changed much over the years. It still had fancy victorian wallpaper (scorched and torn in a few places), and elaborate moldings and light sconces that made it look like some kind of creepy old mansion…just like Arthur's. The only difference was the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, making it even creepier. It was the perfect setup for a ghost gym.

"Can I be the announcer!?" Peter asked, jumping up and down in excitement. He would finally get to see the champ in action!

"Of course!" Alfred cried, before turning to his brother "How about a best out of three battle? Short and sweet."

"That…that sounds fine." Matthew replied. His backbone seemed to be steadily disintegrating as the battle neared. How could he have challenged a _champion_ to a fight? He was only a lowly gym leader…the thing that champions had to beat ALL of before they could advance.

_"No, Canada. You have to do this. You can't back down now. He needs to know that you can battle too." _

"Alright then! Peter, announce the rules!"

The boy had climbed onto a stool at the far corner of the room , and was raising his arms high into the air.

"This is a best out of three battle between gym leader Matthew Williams and JOHTO LEAUGE CHAMPION ALFRED JONES!! BEGIN!"

Before Canada could even react, America had selected a pokeball from his belt and was throwing it onto the battlefield. Matthew hurried to catch up, clumsily dropping his own pokeball to the ground, just as Alfred's typhlosion burst forth, roaring loudly. Matthew shakily picked up his pokeball, chucking it into the air. There was a flash of light, revealing a small shuppet floating silently through the air.

Bad choice,** bad choice, BAD CHOICE.**

"Dwight, use fire blast!"

The typhlosion took a deep breath, puffing its cheeks, before letting out a ball of flame that sent the vents on his neck violently alight. Poor Manitoba never stood a chance. The shuppet's easily flammable cloth body…caught fire…causing it to fly madly through the air, trying to put out the flames. Matthew panicked, attempting to get it's attention after failing a few times to return it to it's pokeball. It was only when Manitoba actually listened that Canada realized how much danger he was suddenly in. There was a pokemon, on fire, flying toward him…

"Gahhh!" The man cried, trying one last time to recall it. Fortunately for his hair, skin and face, it worked, and the shuppet was suddenly gone.

Well….that was embarrassing.

Alfred laughed uproariously and gave Dwight a thumbs up before recalling it.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" The man taunted.

"Y-yes!" Matthew cried, selecting another pokeball. "I'm not going to lose to you, ALFRED F. JONES!"

The hurled the ball into the air, revealing his Misdrevous, Alberta. He was prepared this time. Alberta was quick. It could fly faster than any bird-type, and it happened to know both psychic _and_ ghost type moves, putting it at an advantage to normal ghost types. The misdrevous's skill in battle made up for the fact that it wailed like a scared cat every night, right outside his window. Matthew could never get it to stay in a pokeball, or in a room (seeing as how it could just float through the wall), so…he had to deal with it…Every. Single. Night.

"Jackie! I choose you!"

Upon seeing his brother's chosen pokemon, Matthew almost felt like leaping into the air in joy. How could America have made such a dire mistake? Didn't he know anything about type advantages? Didn't he know about a pokemon's weaknesses and strengths?

Apparently not, because…Alfred F. Jones, champion of the Johto league, had just released…a Hitmonchan onto the field.

Meanwhile, up on his podium, Peter was watching the battle, which, so far, was turning out to be kind of a letdown. He had expected an epic battle, but the first round had been pathetic. He wanted to see the champion in ACTION…not see the champion _stomp_ on Matthew (because Matthew got stomped on a lot…and it just wasn't fun to watch anymore). He had been hoping for a better second round…until Alfred seemed to make a dire mistake. How could a champion attempt to pit a fighting type against a ghost type? It was…it was suicide.

"I bet you all think I'm crazy." Alfred announced, holding up one hand, as if to pause the battle. "But, I assure you, the hero knows what he's doing…Jackie! Foresight!"

"Maple!" Canada squeaked as Alberta's gaseous body became solid. The misdrevous seemed confused for a moment, before its red eyes flared in anger, and it let out a shrill cry. Peter, Alfred and Jackie had to cover their ears, but not Matthew. He was _used_ to it, and thus could use the distraction to his advantage.

"Alberta, use psychic!"

The rainbow colored blast shot from the jewel imbedded in the pokemon's forehead, flying toward Jackie who still had its large boxing glove hands clamped over its ears. Alfred saw the attack at the last moment, ordering his pokemon to dodge. Jackie barely managed to escape.

"Sneaky sneaky, Matty." The champion cried, his grin growing impossibly wide. "You've leaned a few things, haven't you?"

"You might be able to hit me now, but I can hit you back, and _my _pokemon's moves are super effective!"

Matthew had never been one for witty banter.

The adrenaline of battle was pounding through Canada's veins, and he found himself becoming braver and braver. Once, he had been afraid to stand up to his brother, because he had always seemed so confident and sure of himself. But now, they were battling, and he had been trained since he was little to take over the gym, and he had. He might not be a champion, but he was good enough!

Meanwhile, Alfred was realizing that he had forgotten that some ghost types could handle psychic moves, but no sweat. It didn't matter, in the end. He knew that Jackie was strong enough to beat the stuffing out of that floating witch with one hand tied behind its back.

"Jackie, use comet punch!"

Energy began growing around the pokemon's fists, and he leapt forward, darting gracefully across the battle field.

"Alberta, evade!"

The misdrevous attempted to dodge, only to fall victim to a fake-out made by the opponent. It shrieked again as Jackie's fist collided with its face, sending it flying haphazardly through the air, and into a wall. Matthew cried out as his pokemon slumped to the floor.

He had only a split second to choose his next move as Alfred commanded his hitmonchan to use mach punch. He had to think fast.

"Alberta? Can you hear me?"

The ghost pokemon sluggishly gathered itself together, eyes widening when it saw Jackie careening toward her. Matthew paused a few more beats, waiting until the hitmonchan was almost upon his pokemon, before taking a deep breath, and shouting out his next command.

"Use psychic, now!"

The attack hit Jackie at point blank range, stopping it in its tracks. Alfred let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening.

"Jackie! Jackie!" He called.

For a moment, the hitmonchan staggered clumsily, before dropping to the floor, completely defeated. Reluctantly, Alfred returned him to his pokeball. The last battle would decide it all. If he lost…

"You've really gotten better, haven't you, Matty?" The older man laughed, selecting his last pokemon. "I'll admit, that last round was a gamble, but, this time, I'm sure to win!"

Washington flew from the pokeball in a flash of light, its wings flapping powerfully through the air. America had discovered that ghost types _hated_ bird types. None of their attacks would work against them, not even psychic ones.

The battle was in the bag.

However, Matthew knew something that Alfred didn't. He knew that despite bird types having a distinct advantage to ghost types, ghost types also had the ability to learn certain moves to counter-act this. Matthew plucked his last pokeball from his belt, tossing it into the arena. Haunter burst forth in a plume of gas, its unsettling white eyes darting around the room.

"It's time for the hero to show you how it's done! Washington, Aerial ace!"

"Haunter! Use Thunder!"

"Wha?"

A bolt of lightning shot out of the blue, aimed straight for the vulnerable bird pokemon. Alfred cried out for it to evade, but Washington couldn't react fast enough, and the blast singed its tail feathers. The Pidgeot squawked angrily, flapping its wings madly in retaliation. The wind that picked up blew Hunater's gaseous body around, knocking him through the air. The ghost pokemon scrambled to regain control, once even swiping at the bird with its claws when it got close enough but to no avail.

"Thunder!" Matthew shouted again.

"Aerial Ace!"

Alfred watched as Washington cut through the air, moving too fast for the haunter to zero in on. It was time for the battle to end. The final blow happened almost too fast to see. One moment, the two were facing off, the next, Washington was landing beside its master, while Huanter was a puddle of goop on the floor. Matthew blanched, recalling his pokemon, a look of disappointment written all over his face. Alfred could see he was sad…but…

"That was the best battle ever, Matthew! You're so much better than you used to be!"

"Oh…t-thanks." The younger man stuttered, his courage ebbing with the battle. In truth, he had never gotten so close to winning against his brother. He _had_ gotten better over the years. Maybe not as much as Alfred, but still…it was improvement.

"We-well, since you beat me…you get one of these." Matthew said, reaching inside his pocket and drawing out a small red pin in the shape of a maple leaf. Alfred recognized it immediately as his badge.

"He gives out a lot of those!" Peter said, jumping down from his pedestal.

Matthew blushed with embarrassment

"It's the maple badge!" Sealand continued. "And now, you can use cut outside of battle!"

Alfred's eyes widened.

"Really?" He asked. Peter nodded.

"Well, break out the HM slave, Sealand! We're going tree-chopping after this!"

"Yay!" The boy cheered, running from the arena.

"It's been nice seein' ya, Matty." Alfred said with a grin.

And then, he was gone.


	5. Of Leaps and Mareeps

**Spy Guy: Sorry this took so long. XD I did it though.**

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* * *

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**Chapter 5: Of Leaps and Mareeps. **

"There's a collection of islands, west of Sinnoh." Toris explained, sitting up straight in the uncomfortable chair. He pulled the map closer, taking the pen and circling the area. There were three small islands, the two largest resting beside each other.

"Why do you suppose Alfred is so interested in them?" Ivan asked idly, drawing patterns on the tabletop with his finger.

"They're mostly unexplored." Toris continued, taking a deep breath. "This one here," He said, indicating the smallest, "Is called Iron Island. There's an abandoned mine there, and now it's a place where trainers go to challenge themselves."

"And the others?"

Toris harshly swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Alfred had trusted him with the secrets of the other two isles, telling him of the legends Kiku had grudgingly shared. It was said that those two islands were home to legendary creatures, which, if disturbed, could be very volatile and dangerous. Ivan was a man that should not be allowed around volatile and dangerous things...as he was one himself.

"There's...I'm not sure." The man lied. "They really haven't been explored much. The locals don't go near them"

"Oh. I see." Ivan said with a smile...a smile that Lithuania knew all too well. Ivan knew that he was keeping something from him. Ivan always knew. If he didn't tell...

"It's said that there might be legendary pokemon there. I don't know which ones. But, they're supposed to be very powerful."

"Legendaries?" Russia grinned. "You know how I do _love_ legendaries."

"You really shouldn't go after them, sir." Toris said. "They're not like articuno, or entei. These creatures-"

"I think that hunting them down is the best part," Russia continued, getting to his feet. "The thrill of the chase. The great battle that follows. This could be an adventure."

"Kiku has heard horrible stories-"

"There's one on each island, _da?" _The older man pressed on, wrenching the pen from his lackey's grip. "Two islands. Two legendaries. And the islands are so small. Not much of a hunt is it? No matter. I need to get to them before America does."

"Alfred's just going to explore-"

There was a sharp crack as the pen snapped in half in Ivan's hold, black ink staining his gloves.

"America does _not_ go anywhere _just_ to explore." He snarled. "Alfred always has to be the best, the greatest, like no one ever was. I'm tired of letting him get the better of me."

There were a few beats of silence before Ivan chuckled, throwing the pen away, all traces of anger wiped from his face.

"I will need a boat." He said, clapping his ink-stained hands together. "And someone who can pilot it. Toris, can you?"

"You said that you'd let me go-"

"Silly Lithuania. Once I'm done exploring the islands, then you can go back. If I let you go now, you would only warn Alfred that I was coming...and we can't have that, _da?" _

"I guess not..."

And that was that.

* * *

Kiku checked his watch again. It was getting late. He stood on the pier, surrounded by his bags of luggage, dressed in what he supposed was proper seafaring gear: a large t-shirt, baggy shorts, flipflops and sunglasses. The sun was hot, and the sea calm.

Japan tried ringing Alfred's cellphone, only to once again hear his annoying rap song of an answering machine. The boat was due to leave soon, and there wouldn't be another for weeks.

"Last call, sir." The man taking tickets shouted over the hustle and bustle of the pier. Kiku sighed, running a hand absently through his hair.

"Can't you wait a few more moments? My friend will be here very soon."

There were wingulls flying in the air, making plaintive calls. Two were fighting over a forgotten cup of french fries along the pier. Kiku stared at them for a moment as he waited, trying not to think about how irresponsible his friend was. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered with the younger man. Alfred was brash, and headstrong; oblivious to the feelings of others. He was always running headfirst into things without thinking. Kiku felt obligated to take care of him, and make sure that he didn't get into trouble...because there had been a time when the tables had been reversed, and America had been taking care of _him_. While the younger man acted like a child, it was only because he was young...but he had a good heart.

Now, the wingulls were going after a poor tourist who had been walking along the water. They snatched the man's fries from his hands and quickly took off into the air, forcing the man to chase them to the edge of the dock.

The waterfront was nice.

* * *

Alfred was never late.

He was too awesome for that.

Washington's wings cut through the air, pumping powerfully as they careened toward the pier. The young man's hair whipped in the wind, and he had to hold onto his glasses with one gloved hand to make sure that they didn't blow away. Below, he could see a large cruise ship, and briefly pointed to it with his free hand, almost losing his balance in the process.

"Target sighted!" He cried.

Washington angled its trajectory, zeroing in on an empty part of the ship's deck. It was fast approaching, and the pidgeot extended its legs, preparing for landing.

"Steady...Steady." Alfred whispered, holding tight to the creature's feathers. The deck was flying closer, closer-

Washington spread his wings wider, catching the wind and breaking rapidly-

And then they were on the deck, surrounded by shocked people.

"No need to applaud." Alfred said, holding up one hand. He jumped off of Washington's back, and quickly returned it to its pokeball.

He had made it.

"Alfred! Alfred-san!" Kiku called, waving franticly from his spot on the pier.

"Kiku, my good man!" Alfred called, leaning over the ship's railing. "Why are you down there? The boat's going to be leaving soon!"

Kiku sighed, giving a frustrated facepalm.

"America, _this_ is our boat!" He said, pointing to another cruise ship close by.

Alfred tilted his head like a puppy, and then turned to the security guard that was walking quickly in his direction.

"Where is this boat going?" The young man asked, giving the guard his winning smile.

The guard was not amused.

"Vermillion city." He said gruffly.

"Oh. I see."

On the pier, Japan was gathering up his bags and boarding the correct ship, finally handing the ticket-taker his ticket.

"That your friend over there?" The man asked.

"Yes." Kiku replied, watching as Alfred made a death-defying leap between the two boats. "I have his ticket right here."

As the man checked the pass, Japan saw Alfred pulling himself over the railing, landing gracefully on the deck (give or take a subtle stumble). People were circling around him, clapping madly, while the young man soaked it all in.

"How does he have all that energy?" The older man grumbled to himself as he clambered up the plank.

* * *

Raivis had always been afraid of Mareep.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was their soulless black eyes. Maybe it was the electric charge that always built up in their wool. But Raivis was pretty sure that it wasn't either of those things. People would always laugh at him when he told them the real reason.

Mareep had very very sharp teeth.

It was true. They really did. And for some reason, every Mareep he had met liked to chomp on him. It was incredibly ironic that Estonia kept a few with him at all times...and that caused Latvia endless stress. But, then again, everything caused him stress. He was always shaking (no matter how hard Ivan tried to "help" him to stop), and stuttered when he spoke. And, he was so short…much shorter than any of the others in the gang.

One of Eduard's mareep was watching him from the other side of the hideout, its glassy eyes unmoving. It was making Raivis very nervous...so nervous that was was barely listening to yet another of Estonia's lectures.

"Latvia, are you paying attention?"

"Oh!" The man cried, breaking eye contact with the demon sheep. "Yes. I was...you were talking about...ummm..."

"I was talking about what Ivan said about your pokemon." The other man said with a sigh. "You know he's told you to get new ones."

"I know..." Lativa whimpered, remembering their boss's own lecture from the night before.

"Why don't you use your Natu, Raivis?" Eduard asked, turning his eyes back to his laptop, one hand patting his loyal porygon, Tartu, who was resting quietly in his lap.

"It…it kind of scares me." The boy replied, reaching for the pokeball at his belt. He clutched it nervously in his hands, recalling the terrifying unmoving eyes of the natu he had unwittingly captured. How was he supposed to know that the bird had eyes that NEVER MOVED? It was one of the scariest things he had ever seen, right up there with Ivan, mareep, and an empty liquor cabinet.

Eduard pushed his glasses further up his nose, and let out a sigh.

"Ivan told you to get rid of that caterpie. It's never going to be strong enough."

"But…I like It…It might not be the-the strongest b-but—"

Tartu gave an electronic whine and nudged its master's hand impatiently.

"Alright." The man said, reaching for the power cord dangling from his laptop. "Don't be so impatient."

The porygon trilled happily, letting its master plug it in so he could recharge. Eduard sighed once again, continuing to pat the creature on the head. Only _he_ was capable of finding the _only_ pokemon that needed to be _recharged_, like a cellphone or camera. He loved technology…but when it came to technologically engineered pokemon…the field seemed a little unnecessary.

"What about that Ralts you caught?"

"It…Riga…has a-a bad habit of…disappearing."

"Latvia! You need to start working with it, or Ivan isn't going to be happy."

The younger man cowered in fear.

"I-I know." He quaked. "I'm just not good at this!"

It was then that they both heard the click of a lock...and the door opened.


End file.
